Artistics
by Nation Jones
Summary: At the turn of the grunge movement, four friends try to stay together through it all. Through addictions, caviar, and the Goblin King's unhealthy obsession with a certain gray eyed beauty. [SxJ]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth.

**Greenwich Village**

**October 1990**

Sarah Williams let a small, un-manicured hand run itself through her ebony tresses. When her fingers stopped at an ungodly tangle of hair, she grunted, and, with a few twists of the wrist, her locks rested at the back of her head in a loose bun. Tilting her head, she gave herself a long, lingering stare in the mirror hanging on the wall, furrowing her eyebrows at her gaunt reflection.

"I need to get off of the starving artist's diet," She muttered.

"Ah," Came a voice from behind, followed by the slamming of two paper bags not quite full of food onto the wooden countertop, "but you _are _a starving artist."

Rolling up the white sleeves of the men's dress shirt adoring her torso, Sarah spun on her bare heels, rolling her gray eyes, and making her way over to the intruder.

"Eli," She began, riffling through the torn paper bags, "We are not starving, per se...Close," She smiled, taking out of a carton of cottage cheese and sniffing it, "but not yet." She gave the carton another sniff, before shrugging, and throwing it into the refrigerator to her right. Elijah snaked his arm around his fiancé's slender neck, pulling her to him, and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"Sarah Bear-ah," He said, giving her a boyish smile, "If we were living on a middle-class diet, how would you expect us to keep our fabulous figures?" He demonstrated, sucking in his already thin stomach and flexing imaginary muscles, the pale flesh on his arms betraying his attempt to seem buff. At Sarah's giggles, he scoffed, flipping his head back like a model, "I see not what you laugh at," He said, putting on an Italian accent. He was about to go into a tirade about the importance of health and exercise when Sarah took his face in her hands, kissing him softly. Brushing the brown hair out of his green eyes, she laughed again.

"I love you," She said, and he smiled, pulling her in for another kiss.

* * *

"Jean's coming over tonight."

Sarah was sitting in front of the small television set, propped up on a night table, a bowl of cereal in her hands. At Elijah's words, she widened her eyes, standing up and putting her glass bowl down.

"What?" She screeched, folding the blanket she was sitting on up and putting it away, "What time? Why?" In a frantic daze, she began wildly running around, picking up random pieces of clothing, paper, and paintbrushes. Elijah laughed, slowly shaking his head and approaching her. Once he was at her side, he gripped her shoulders, putting his forehead against hers.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah," He said, wagging a mocking finger at her, "Have you seen Jean's flat?" He gestured around the dingy apartment, from the dark wooden floors to the broken stained glass window, and sighed, "We've got nothing to worry about." Sarah groaned, dropping the armload of clothes she had collected into a white whicker basket, and taking it to the bedroom they shared, tucking the clothes into the closet.

"Well, is it so terrible for me to actually want to not seem like a complete slob to our friends?" She asked cynically, though Elijah could tell she was struggling to keep her smile back, "I actually like Jean, and want to make our place look nice for him." She finished with the clothes, and made her way for the doorway. Elijah was quick to follow, grabbing her wrist, and taking her into a waltz.

"Should I be worried that my soon-to-be wife is going to leave me for my best friend of twelve years?" He raised his eyebrows, trailing kisses down Sarah's neck. She giggled, pushing him away slightly.

"Yes, me and Jean Léglise are going to run off to Jamaica and live off of the profits we make selling flip flops and breakfast burritos," She skipped off, going to the kitchen, and opening the refrigerator. Upon opening it, she grunted, turning to Elijah, "Sweetheart," She said, pouting her lips and widening her eyes in an attempt to persuade him before she even said what she had to say, "We have no caviar."

He leaned into the refrigerator, clearing his throat, "Well, that's odd. Considering the boatloads of cash we have to spend on boatloads of caviar," He straightened himself, still focused on the contents of the fridge, "You think we'd have enough caviar to feed a third world country for a year or two..." Sarah smacked him playfully on the arm, before crossing her arms.

"When we moved here, we both agreed that caviar would be the one thing we splurged on, remember?" She gave him a quizical look, and he returned it, crossing his own arms and strutting around the kitchen.

"Yes, I remember," He nibbled on a wheat cracker, before tossing it away, ignoring Sarah's disapproving glare, "We said that we would spend money on caviar because it made us feel rich." He laughed at the memory, breaking a piece of uncooked spaghetti noodle in half, "But, right now, I have absolutely no money." He looked to Sarah, his eyes just as wide and twice as pleading as her's had been. After two minutes of trying to stand her ground, she threw her arms up in defeat, going to her purse.

"Fine," She said, digging around in her humongous black bag, "I did actually get some money from that 'wealthy' women down the road," Retrieving her wallet, she plucked out five bills, "She bought that picture I painted a week ago."

"Of me?"

Sarah giggled, "She seems to have a bit of an obsession with you," Handing Elijah the money, she placed her hand to his heart, "You go to the store, I'm beat." her hand still on him, she skillfully opened the door without taking her eyes off of him, and, with a smile sweeter than chocolate, she pushed him out the door, closing it behind her. Satisfied when she heard him running down the stairs, she ran back to the television.

Five minutes of pure drama, Spanish soap opera style, Sarah's concentration was broken when she heard the door open. Pushing herself up on her knees, she quickly straightened her black yoga pants, pulling down the sleeves of her shirt. "Well, gosh," She said, making her way towards the door, "You sure were fast with tha-" She stopped when she realized the person entering her flat wasn't Elijah.

"Hey Sare," Jean closed the door with his foot, opening his arms in a 'Come hug me, you know you want to' way. Sarah complied, hugging her friend tightly. After pulling herself away, she realized Jean had bags in his hands and, ever the angel, she took the bags, setting them on the card/dining table.

"What did you bring to us this lovely evening, Jean?" Pulling out a green bottle, she eyed the beverage, then her friend, and he merely shrugged, taking a seat in one of the four chairs surrounding the table.

"Just your average, everyday bottles of French wine, some salmon, some caviar-" Sarah cut her friend off, sitting herself down as well.

"Wait, you brought caviar?" Jean nodded, and she groaned, "I just sent Eli out with my last pay for some." Jean tried his hardest not to laugh at the irony, before raising his eyebrows.

"Whoa, you got paid?" Sarah knit her brows together at his remark.

"Is it so shocking that I sold a painting?" Jean smiled wide, giving the woman a high-five.

"Go Sarah! I actually sold quite a few cheap ones, which is I came. I decided we should celebrate," He arose, pulling out two champagne glasses from one of the bags, and poured the drink into the tall, slender glasses, "Ya'like?" he asked, tilting a glass in Sarah's direction. Wrapping her fingers around the glass, she nodded, taking a sip. "I got them from that fancy crystallized goods shop a couple of blocks from my place. You shoulda seen the look on that guy's face when I strolled in." He paused, taking a swig from the glass, "I swear, no one in that store had reservations on using the dread "N-word" on me." Jean rolled his eyes, before the sound of someone entering cut in.

"Jean, buddy o' man," Elijah said, a small bag in his gloved hands, "Wha'sup my brother?" He set the plastic bag down on the table, eyeing the set up. He dropped his mouth in fake shock when he saw the three jars of caviar already set out, "Well then, looks like I just wasted your money," He said to Sarah, pulling out the two jars he bought. Twisting the gold cap off of one from his bag, he took a small spoon, and helped himself to some of the beady black concoction.

"Remember Eli," Sarah said, a humorous glint in her eyes, "Watch the figure; other's won't or you don't." With that, she took a hearty swig from her champagne glass, before looking to Jean, a grin on her rosy lips, "I love having a friend who can buy this stuff." She got out of her chair, and poured herself another glass. Jean released a hearty laugh, raising his glass, as if to toast Sarah.

"For you, anything, m'lady." Elijah playfully punched his friend in the shoulder, his face contorting in false anger.

"You, if you would like to have children," He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Will keep away from my woman."

"Me?" Sarah asked, placing her hands just below her collarbone, "I am no one's 'woman'."

"No," Jean said, slowly shaking his head, "No, you're not. " He looked at her for a time, before reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a small, mirrored lighter. "Mind?" He said, gesturing with his lighter. Sarah shook her head, pulling out her own cigarette and quickly lighting the end with a match. Shaking the match so the fire went out, she cringed when she saw Jean pull out the thin white stick, groaning.

"C'mon! I thought you meant a cigarette!" Jean smiled devilishly, lighting the stick and taking a drag, "I thought I said no joints in here," Sarah said, venom in her voice, giving Elijah the proverbial death glare. Elijah merely shrugged. "Do you even know what's rolled up in there?" She asked, both men giving her blank looks. Elijah cleared his throat and, as Jean handed him the joint, he looked wordlessly to Sarah. She sighed, walking away, so Elijah shrugged again, taking a long drag.

"Jesus," Sarah muttered, flicking the long line of ashes off of her cigarette, "If the police come, I had nothing to do with it!" She yelled to the guys, who hollered their agreements.

After fifteen minutes on the fire escape spent soul-searching cigarette smoking and listening to the guys' steady but sure decline into "high-tation" (as Elijah referred to it being), Sarah decided that, at nine forty five P.M, it was time for a certain someone to retire to bed. Tossing the still-lit cigarette onto the street, five stories below where she sat, she made her way inside, stopping in the kitchen.

Looking with disdain at Jean and Elijah, who both sat in a daze at the table, two and a half jars of caviar gone, Sarah rolled her eyes. Stopping briefly to grab a bottled water and a small jar of caviar, she sighed, poking Elijah in the back of his neck with her fork.

"I'm going to bed, okay?" He mumbled something, but she didn't quite catch it. With one last grunt of displeasure at the current situation, she twisted the cap off of her water, took a swig, and retired to the bedroom.

* * *

The irritating 'beep-beep-beep' of the digital alarm clock-one of the few luxuries Sarah actually still considered a "luxury"-broke into her dreamless slumber and made her heave the cotton pillow halfway across the room, narrowly missing the open window. Pulling a black sweater on over her gray tank top, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress, standing up, and stretching her arms high above her head. The sweater lifted over her rib cage, and she quickly tugged it down, goose pimples from the cold forming on her flesh.

She cast a glare to the left side of the bed, and scrunched her nose when she realized Elijah wasn't there. Suppressing a yawn, she stepped over boots, easels, and paint cans, making her way into the living area. Once she found herself out of her bedroom, she quietly looked into the living area and, upon further inspection, found Elijah sprawled out on the couch, the green velvet cover twisted around his body.

Carelessly, she gave him a few smacks on the head, until he finally stirred into consciousness.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," She croaked, lowering herself down to his level.

"We-" He paused, reading her face, "Me and Jean I mean-we got high, last night..." She looked confused at his words, so he elaborated, rubbing his eyes harshly. "After you went to bed...I'm sorry baby, I really am-"

"What'd you take?" He didn't answer of first, as he seemed to be flirting with unconsciousness, "Eli, c'mon, what'd you take?" He sat himself up, wrapping the cover around his willowy form. Once he was fully situated, he opened his mouth, lingering for a moment.

"He brought acid. I'm sorry Sarah, I know how you hate drugs..." She waved her fingers in front of his eyes, causing him to grab her hand, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, "What are you doing?"

"You can still see?" He moaned a 'Yes', "Okay. Just, don't take anymore, alright?" He nodded, and she kissed the top of his head. Sarah smiled warmly, before peeling off her yoga pants and sliding into a denim skirt. Grabbing her purse, she rubbed Elijah's head, making for the door.

"What," Elijah said, and she stopped turning on her heels, "Where you going?"

"I'm going down to that flea market, I want to see if I can pick up some new shirts," She took the opportunity to pin her hair up, a few layered strands falling out to frame her face. Just as she was about to leave, she turned again, paused in mid-motion.

"Where's Jean?" Elijah pointed to the large chair at the other end of the room. Jean was curled into a tight ball, using his hoodie as a pillow, a broken champagne glass below his hand, draped over the left side of the chair. She laughed, before leaving the flat.

* * *

An hour and a half at the market hadn't brought much in Sarah's ownership. She did buy three or four sweaters for about three dollars each, and was in the middle of haggling for a teal and gold pashmina when she felt a familiar, light tapping on her shoulder. She didn't have to turn the whole way around to know who would be on the giving end of such a tap.

"Mimi!" She practically shouted, wrapping her long arms around her petite friend. Mimi had her red ringlets falling over her shoulders, a black dress adorning her lithe frame, completed with metallic gold ballet flats. She had what had to be twenty plastic bags full of flea market finds hanging from her arms, and a bright smile was resting on her ruby red lips.

"Hey Sarah," She said, a light British trace in her soft voice, "What brings you here today?"

Placing the proper amount of bills into the stand owner's chalky palm, Sarah waved her new pashmina around, laughing gleefully, "Cheap clothing, of course!" The two girls began walking along, stopping every so often to coo over a baby, or fawn over jewelry. Whenever they saw an outrageously high price on one of the white cardboard tags, they would raise their noses, scoffing at the price.

"Look, Meems," Sarah said, holding a tag out to her friend, "Two hundred dollars for this dress."

"Oh, please," Mimi said, dismissing the article with a wave of her small hand, "It takes money to look this poor. We cannot waste it on such trivial items."

"Mimi," Sarah began, as they began to walk back to Sarah's flat, "Have you ever, y'know, taken drugs?" Mimi let out a 'pffft', her breath coming out in wisps from the cold.

"Sarah, who hasn't?" She said. When her friend didn't respond, Mimi stopped, her mouth agape. Sarah furrowed her eyebrows together, and Mimi tilted her head. "Why? Who did?"

Sarah hesitated, before looking down to the pavement, "Last night, Jean came over and-"

"Ohmigod, Sarah, did you take drugs and," Mimi looked around suspiciously, before lowering her voice, "_have sex with Jean?_" Sarah jumped back, her mouth open in shock.

"No! Christ, Mimi, what kind of girl do you think I am?" Mimi shrugged, before locking arms with Sarah, and picking up on their walk. Sarah took this as a sign for her to continue, "No, Jean brought over acid and...Eli took it with him." Mimi gripped Sarah's arm, as they reached the building Sarah lived in.

"Just watch out for him, okay?" Mimi kissed Sarah's cheek, before starting to walk herself home. Before she was out of earshot, Mimi spun around, facing her friend.

"Sarah," She said, anxiousness in her voice, "Really, keep an eye on him. Those things are addictive."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Random drug use is not just random. The addiction is going to effect all four of our characters. Oh, yeah, Jareth is going to pop up in here. I don't know how soon, but he will. 


End file.
